Lost Souls
by nottheaveragebee
Summary: Karlee Perez wasn't easy to grasp. Nor was she easy to let go either.


_**A/N: **_I know it's pretty short, but this idea just popped into my head and couldn't get out. I hope you guys like it. Be sure to review, really it doesn't take that much.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Broken Hearts<strong>

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><p>The chairs were ugly, with them sporting the color of vomit. They were leather, lumpy and they smelled weird. She heard this was supposed to be nice, actually even comfortable. But at the moment, she was feeling as if she was in a dumpster.<p>

For the first time in her twenty-five years of living, she was in rehab.

Yeah, drugs had got a hold of her and they weren't easy to shake off. They destroyed her. They chewed her up and threw her out after feeling tired of her. Karlee just couldn't quit them. She gripped the wooden handles of the chair nervously and looked into the eyes of the mysteriously tattooed man across her.

He wasn't the average good looking man you find on the streets, but he fit the perfect description of a drug addicted reject member of Nirvana. He was handsome, though to find his beauty you had to look deeper than usual.

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat and decided to make some small talk. "So…why are you here?"

His dark green eyes narrowed at her question ticking something off inside him. "Mental, they say."

He didn't look mentally deranged, but he had a scary look in those eyes of him. There was no trace of warmth or welcome in them, but despair and depth beneath the green orbs. Karlee looked at the carpeted floor lost.

"You?"

"Meth." She said simply.

"What happened?" He asked, shifting in his chair searching for a more comfortable position.

Karlee shrugged, she wasn't ready to spill her whole life out to the stranger. She barely knew him and he barely knew her. Making _friends_ in rehab sounded terrible. She shivered as a cool breeze flew through the open window. Goosebumps appeared on her skin and the man removed his jacket.

"Here." He handed it to her.

She looked in his dark eyes before grabbing the jacket and slipping it on. Warmth filled through her and she was thankful.

But Ms. Perez couldn't even if she was dead not make a side comment.

"So you're a charmer." She said snidely.

"No, just a gentleman. Seems you've never had one of those in your life."

Karlee drew back to the stranger in front of her. She was somewhat boiled up now, ready to argue, ready fight to the end, but she inhaled a breath and let it out.

She'd let that one slide.

She sighed, bored waiting for the doctor to come say some crap that wouldn't help her in a hundred years. She missed home.

Even if home meant crashing in some friend's house for some odd number of days.

Karlee looked at the man sitting in the chair so comfortably in front of her as if he was in his living room. She observed the tattoos clearly with the jacket removed. Her eyes stopped on the one across his knuckles stating 'DRUG FREE'.

"Drug free, huh?" She laughed.

The stranger smiled and shook his head at the no joke, captivating woman.

She could really keep someone on their toes. She was different. She wasn't like the other bimbos walking around this dreaded place of a rehab.

She was unique.

The way she eyed him made him feel no different. He had already felt the feelings of _love _so many times; he was used to the soft flutter in his chest.

Phil, his name, was always comfortable, at ease and almost never anxious.

Especially over a woman.

It didn't mean he didn't like them, he was a man, and he had needs of his own. They were wonderful creatures, god bless them, but they weren't what made up _his _world.

Phil looked the woman one more time and searched for intricate details. The way she always had her face ready to scowl or frown, or the way she had a menacing look in her eye.

Hey, he didn't mind a challenge.

But he wasn't here for _that_. He was he to get better, to get over the death of Jenny and their child. His eyes darkened and moisture came to eyes, but he quickly wiped it away. It over now, there was nothing he could do.

The past was the past. They were dead and gone, laid six feet under the ground.

He sighed and the brunette's eyes locked with his once more and they shared an intense but meaningful moment. He seemed to connect with this woman, this woman he had no idea about, not even her name than he should have.

She broke the gaze and he felt once again, just a bit more empty. As if he was fighting the world alone.

Jenny was an old girlfriend of his who had come around and claimed that her newborn son was his. He didn't believe but once he caught a glance of the baby he saw a splitting image of himself.

It was scary; almost breathtaking.

On her way to drop him off, a drunk driver had run past a red light. Hitting that blue Nissan that Jenny and newborn Charlie seemed to be in, killing them instantly. The news had taken a long time to sink in, that his chance at being a dad, had been taken away by some drunken bastard who had had too much to drink that night.

It hurt, every single day, his heart cracked into a million other pieces to complete the others.

Phil shook off or tried to shake off the old memories. They would get the best of him and the anger would come back.

He was crazy, they said. Remember?

He'd lost his job, been selling some of his baseball cards, and was basically flat out broke on his ass. Phil struggled, but he'd do it all over again just to have his son in his arms again.

_Anything._

TBC? Review.


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